


The Many Faces of Peter Nureyev

by Ernmark (M_Moonshade)



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Dream Sex, Foursome, I'm so proud, M/M, somehow I have managed to fit a foursome into a very decisively monogamous relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Moonshade/pseuds/Ernmark
Summary: Juno knows he's dreaming.This wouldn't be possible anywhere else.





	

Juno knows this is a dream. It can’t be anything but a dream. The room he’s in is nondescript; the details on the floor, walls, and ceiling are so hazy that they fade into each other. And it makes sense—his brain spent all its energy crafting the characters who share this space with him.

Christopher Morales, the Man Who Isn’t There, is on his knees right behind him, keeping Juno’s arms pinned behind his back. He’s just outside Juno’s field of vision, but even when Juno tries to turn and look, Morales is wreathed in shadow and hazy red light.

Duke Rose is beside them, all nervous excitement. He works open Juno’s shirt and pants with fluttering hands.

“How’s that, dearest?” he asks, cupping Juno’s ass for half a moment. “Comfortable? Not to cold, are you? Do your arms hurt? This isn’t going too fast, is it?”

“Is it?” The voice that echoes Rose is so similar that Juno shouldn’t be able to tell them apart, but he can. Where Rose is all fidgeting naivety, the man in front of him is bleeds confidence. Rex Glass leans into Juno’s space and his fingers tangle in Juno’s hair. “Are you ready for us, Detective?”

Juno’s lips form the words, but giving voice to those syllables requires first taking a breath. The message must have gotten across, though, because a finger is circling his entrance, already slick.

“Relax, darling, it’s just me,” Rose soothes, and the finger slips inside him.

“My dear, sweet Detective…” Rex is even closer than he was before, his breath hot on Juno’s neck. Between the silken lips on his jaw and the finger carefully working him open, it’s hard to focus on anything at all—not until Morales chuckles behind him, and Juno feels a sudden flash of pain as sharp teeth bury themselves in his shoulder.

Juno gasps. His hips buck forward, suddenly desperate for friction.

Rose answers with an affectionate swat at Juno’s thigh. “Now, now. Patience, Dahlia. You aren’t quite ready yet.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Rex rises to look Juno in the eye, their faces barely an inch apart. He smiles, vulpine and dangerous and so very endearing. “My eager detective.” His slender hand cups Juno’s cheek. All Juno can smell is that intoxicating cologne. “Why don’t you show me how eager you really are?”

Morales releases Juno’s arms from their pin, and he falls headlong into Rex. His kisses are desperate and needy, his liberated hands fumble with the crisp lines of the Dark Matters uniform. He wants to feel hot skin under his fingertips. He wants to taste every inch of that man—of all these men. He wants—

The scene shifts as it only can in dreams. Rex vanishes like a shadow, and Juno falls forward with a cry. The moment his hands touch the hazy floor, they’re caught. Morales’ grip is like iron, once again pinning him—this time to the floor. Rose is behind Juno, easing his hips higher, positioning him just right.

A cock slides against his backside, already slick.

“Oh, Juno,” Rex purrs. His hands slide up Juno’s ribs, up the tender flesh of his sides, and settle on his hips. “You really are lovely like this.”

Juno can’t stand it any longer. He tries to thrust back, to impale himself on that cock, but he’s still shackled by Morales’ grip.

“Come on,” he hisses. “If you’re gonna do it, just do it already.”

Rex chuckles like black velvet. “And spoil the fun of watching you squirm?”

Juno strains harder to reach him, but he’s trapped. “Rex, please—”

A single finger traces a line across Juno’s sensitive side, just light enough to tickle. The sensation is practically torture.

“I recall making you an offer once, Detective. Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?” The finger skates into the crease of his thigh, just close enough that Juno would love to kick out, but he can’t. He can’t, and it’s driving him insane.

“I have!” He strains backward again, but with no relief. “Rex—Rex, I’ll be your queen—I’ll be your concubine—I’ll be your two-cred whore—I don’t care what position you want filled, _just fill me_ —“

The answering thrust is sharp and hard and so goddamn satisfying it makes Juno want to cry. Rex pulls out again, agonizingly slow, and then plunges back in so hard that his balls slap against Juno’s. Juno only gets a chance to scream once before his open mouth is filled, and he’s choking on Morales’ cock. His eyes are watering, his vision full of shadows and Martian red. His hands are free, and he grabs handfuls of Morales’ ass to pull him even closer.

They’re thrusting in tandem now, dragging Juno back and forth to be impaled first on Rex, then Morales, back and forth in a dizzying rhythm, their nails leaving welts in their wake as they gouge across his skin. Meanwhile Rose is still hovering over him in just short of religious ecstasy.

“Oh—oh my—oh, _Dahlia_ , you’re utterly divine—oh, _look at you_ — _oh_!” It isn’t just empty praise, either—he’s got himself in hand, is reaching for Juno with trembling fingers—

Rex folds against Juno, and for a moment he can feel soft lips and hot breath against his ribs. Then come the teeth—sharp and brilliant and perfect. Juno howls wordlessly, the sounds muffled by Morales’ cock—and he must have liked that, because he’s coming now, hot and hard down Juno’s throat, and Juno sucks down every drop. A second blast of come hits Juno from the side, ropes of white against his dark skin.

And Rex—Rex is still thrusting into him, so intense he feels like he might rattle apart, but he still hasn’t come. Instead his hand wraps around Juno’s straining cock.

_“After you, Detective.”_

Juno isn’t sure whether it’s that last thrust that does it, or if it’s the twist of Rex’s wrist, or Rose’s lips colliding with his, or that final bite cutting deep into his shoulder. All he knows is his back is arching and his toes are curling and his hands are fisted in—he doesn’t even know what anymore—and there are arms and arms and arms around him and he doesn’t want this moment to end.

But moments do end.

He opens his eye and sees streetlights filtering through the blinds onto his aged ceiling. His skin is clammy with drying sweat. His pants are sticking to his legs in a way that will be imminently uncomfortable. Groaning, he rolls over.

And finds himself face to face with Peter Nureyev. His thief’s eyes are luminous, and his sharp teeth catch the faint light and gleam.

“Oh Juno,” he purrs, getting in close. “Did you have any idea that you talk in your sleep?”


End file.
